


CIRCUIT BOOSTER

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: F/M, Femme/Mech/Femme, Gender-swap, Making Dreams Come True, Mech as Femme, Multi, Oopsie Humor, Sleazy Naiveté, Sticky Sex, Threesome, Warped Reality (AU), pointless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: It starts as all things do with a cue in for the porno music.





	

**Author's Note:**

> When I learn to say “no, bad idea bad”, I’ll be a sane individual.

Pharma stares blankly at the closed door.  His muted reflection stares back at him dumbly while he tries to cool his quickly heating systems down.  Steam puffs in small trails from his vents, and his spark spins wildly.  Shivers pass over his internal systems, transferring first to his protoform then his exterior plating.  The flyer stutters his optics and brings a datapad to his facial derma and presses it hard into his mouth and nasal ridge.  His singular attempt to regain control of his pleasure cueing systems is shaky at best and missing completely at worse.  Absently he checks his internal chronometer for the time.

He had hoped for a calm start to his shift.  Maybe even a chance to catch up on some of the paperwork that had been collecting since yesterday and Rodimus’ ill-advised attempt at adventuring without Magnus’ heavy hand to rein him in.  It had been a mad dash for all of the Lost Light’s medical staff to save the unfortunate participants who had stupidly jumped at the chance.  No one was dead, thank Primus for small wonders, but they had even had to corner a few of the non-medical staff who had a more advance level than standard field first-aid training to help with the clean-up.

Pharma huffs in irritation at the cocksure grin Rodimus had sported as he lorded himself over the med bay and the laid up crew members who were still conscious.   _ How does that fragger not get hurt by his own stupid whims; Primus sure kissed that little orange aft good. _  The small shot of jealousy crackling through the flyer’s spark and field is enough to bring his flaring libido programs to heel.  He intakes a heavy draught and sends a ping to the door to open.  His expression is one of resolute assuredness.  He strides into the med bay proper, his sights narrowing in on his work station.  His will is able to remain unshackled by almost cowardly refusing to look at the occupants in the corner that had set his gears turning to a breakneck speed.

He keeps his back to the larger scene of the med bay and begins to get to work at his station.  He has almost convinced himself that he would make it through his shift without another call to full flag attention when--  Pharma’s hand lays a heavy smack on his helm.  His audios!  He had forgotten to lower the sensitivity of his audios.  He stiffens his spinal strut as a soft giggle turns into a warbling moan.  The stiff stance is a joke, however, as *ting* his spike knocks on its cover at the drawn out rev of an engine.  A look of fierce determination crosses Pharma’s face.  He picks up the nearest datapad and gets back to work, though he still has his audios cranked to their normal setting even increasing their sensitivity just a bit to be able to catch all the wonderful nuances of metal sliding against metal against wax.  A shy embarrassment chases the lust through his field.

“R-ratchet!  No, stop!”  Firstaide whines and wiggles in the older medic’s grasp.  A mouth pops open in a giggle that slides into a heady moan.  Red fingers draw carefully through the organic wax.  It had been expensive but well worth the price if it was turning Aide into such a whimpering mess.  Ratchet grins and flicks a brief glance at the stiff frame trying to work a far distance away from the writhing pair.  The glint from the yellow turbine is like a siren call to calculating blue optics.  A slender tongue licks a long line from a polished shoulder to lay a licking kiss on the spinal strut in the upper portion of the younger medic’s back.  Aide’s hands swipe at encasing arms, the medical berth they lean against, anything to get a hold onto reality again and not to give up the game so quick to Ratchet’s rather extensive knowledge.  She would not be beaten out by experience.

“Mmm,” Ratchet hums pleased as small white fingers sneak into a hip seam to glance over nodes within.  He presses forward into Aide’s back and gives her engine a long, hard spin before she too is arching into the exploring hand now ghosting over her still closed valve cover---

**_SMACK!!!!_ **

“Come on, Lon.  What was that for?”  Firstaide whined as he rubbed at the top of his helm where Ambulon had just delivered a sound smack.  The junior medic ducks as an orange and white fist is raised again.

“Firstaide!  This is the same problem you had at Delphi and why?!” Ambulon snatches the datapad away from Aide’s loose fingers.  The ambulance does not try to retrieve it from the legformer when he is this mad.  He does watch so the former does not destroy all of his careful work though as he gestures wildly in full lecture mode.

“Gearstick sucking fragger.”  Firstaide swears and scampers out of the way as Ambulon dives for him.

The loud commotion draws a heavy sigh from the only flyer in the Peaceful Tyranny’s med bay.  Pharma watches the younger mechs tumble about in an argument with an air of aggravated amusement.  He begins to make a mental list of everything he was going to have those two fixing and cleaning for the next two decavorns once they were done with their little spat, when a large arm is slung around his waist.  Pharma turns his head to look at a grinning Ratchet who winks at him.

“Reminds you of us, doesn’t it?”

Pharma crosses his arms and huffs.  “If you mean that you were, and are a shameless pervert who doesn’t know how to stay focused on his job, and I’m the one always after you to actually get work done…then yes, they do remind me of us when we were newer frames.”  Pharma grins at actually knocking Ratchet for a loop.  He wraps his own arm around Ratchet’s waist.

The former Autobot CMO rolls his optics.  “I think we should schedule you for a processor and memory core check because that’s not how I remember it.”  Pharma huffs at the teasing gall but takes the bait.

Helex scratches his helm staring at the scene before him.  With Tarn and the others planetside, he was uncertain what to do with the mechs standing in front of him, medics who were supposed to be the healers and not the ones in need of healing.  He onlines his vocalizer for a moment to ask but wisely aborts the feedback.  He picks up a laser scalpel and decides to start with the easiest to address injury.  He tells himself that he doesn’t need to know how Ambulon and Firstaide ended up welded together any more than he needed to know how Ratchet’s forearms had lodged themselves into Pharma’s thruster.  None of the medics were talking, and that suited Helex just fine.  He’d let Kaon figure things out later.  So for now, he cut at the welded material between the younger medics’ plating as carefully as he could.


End file.
